


...But I'm A Goddamned Hunter!

by Slashy Goodness (allmadhere)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-31
Updated: 2010-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmadhere/pseuds/Slashy%20Goodness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete takes his job as a protector of Chicago very seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...But I'm A Goddamned Hunter!

**Author's Note:**

> In part, this is just me being a huge dork. It also came from realizing just how dorky the FOB guys are too. That, mixed with talking about how Pete at the beginning of Sixteen Candles is doing this whole Christian Bale Batman voice thing (the weird, low gravel-y voice thing) spawned this. So yeah, first foray into bandom and barely any slashing in sight. Huhn. Also, title. Came from the film ...But I'm A Cheerleader!, which was going to be the sort of direction this was going to go in. ... Then it didn't. ._.; Oh, oh, one more thing. I am definitely not the most well-versed in comic lore, because there's too damned much of it. So forgive any mistakes.

Pete Wentz watched from the shadows, a silent protector to the denizens downtrodden by vampires. He was the justice that struck terror into the hearts of the wicked. He was this city's dark knight. He--

He was about to miss his fucking cue and get his friend killed. Pete growled angrily to himself and leapt to the top of the wall in front of him. Damn, did he wish he had a cape, for a breeze picked up as he landed. It would have looked badass beyond measure, especially if it were full-length--

"Pete, a little help? Please?" pleaded the short strawberry blond in a hat below him as he struggled with a gun. It was a helpful contraption of his own invention that shot a slightly electrified net that could debilitate a few vampires at once. That is, if the damned thing ever worked. A pair of vampires stalked him, two no-names who were with the Punks, pushing him slowly back into a corner, as he clicked the double trigger uselessly.

Pete unwound the striped scarf around his neck a little, settling for that instead of a proper cape. He didn't bother with timing and just dropped down, thankfully hitting the advancing pair.

"Pete," the blond sighed in relief and exasperation, "you shouldn't cut shit like that so close." He tried the gun once more, hitting it with the heel of his hand and receiving the buzz of a short, and cursed under his breath.

This was Patrick Stump. If Pete was Batman, Patrick would be his Robin. No, not Robin, far too pedophiliac for his tastes. Besides, just how many Robins had there been? There would only ever be one Patrick. Perhaps Catwoman then? As much as Pete did love a good whipping in the bedroom, that didn't work either. Patrick wouldn't be caught dead in something like that, would he? He was something that defied a good DC counterpart with a relationship to Batman. But Pete... Pete was definitely the goddamned Batman. There were no questions about that.

  
"Pete, are you even listening to me?" Patrick sighed again. He was used to this by now. He'd known Pete for years and he was prone to flights of fancy, especially while on the Blend. The Blend was a concoction of typically inedible ingredients (and celery) which, when pureed on high until well blended in the right amounts, made a viscous brew that somehow allowed a vampire to maintain his humanity and human judgement. Unfortunately, this humanized vampire had the attention span of the average five-year-old on crack, despite being 23 at the time he was turned. Fast-forward to a few years later and the only difference came in his incredibly rare moments of startlingly adult seriousness and what happened when he was off the Blend. Both occurrences were few and far between.

"Come on, Pete. Let's find the guys and get back home, okay?" Patrick slung his hefty gun behind him, using the attached strap to keep it there. He glanced at the vampires Pete had taken out. He'd certainly done a job of it, knocking them out for at least a few hours. They wouldn't be of any help at all and they should be up before sunrise. Even if they didn't have a ton of time, the park they were in could provide enough cover to suffice. Patrick wouldn't have to feel guilty about anything later. Together, Pete and Patrick headed to their car hidden in a more overgrown and little-visited section of the park, the rendezvous point Andy and Joe had agree to find them at within two hours of sunrise.

  
"Sure, 'Trick," Pete smiled at Patrick, playing with his scarf a bit. Maybe if he got a longer one, it would be sort of like a cape... No patterns this time though; Batman doesn't wear stripes. And probably wider... Nah, then he might as well just get a coat or something. And then, well, he'd look like he was either stuck in the Matrix or suddenly becoming a goth kid. Neither looked too promising. No one would believe he really was a vampire and he'd have to be all pasty, which just didn't look good on him. No, he'd stay scene, or whatever you wanted to call it, and it was probably for the best. Who the hell came up with things like that anyway?  
Pete just dismissed the internal debate that threatened and turned his mind to much more pressing matters. "So, if they aren't there, we can... you know." He smiled at Patrick helpfully but only got a confused eyebrow quirk in return.

"Do what? I'm planning to take a look at the... the..." Patrick frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the firearm peering back at him. "You know, we really need to think up a good name for these things. It could make mentioning them a lot easier."

"Oh, I've got something! E.n.s.c.t.h.e.w. It's perfect." Pete looked particularly proud of himself for this one. Patrick only sighed again, for reasons he was sure few could explain. Pete happened to be very good at naming things, another thing he shared in common with Batman. Oh, he'd nearly forgotten about that train of thought!

"Pete, you can't give everything long and barely understandable titles. And if you have to condense it to an acronym, that counts double." He stopped and looked at his friend, shaking his head in disbelief. "What the hell does E.n.s.c.t.h.e.w. even stand for?" Pete started to give his answer, but a raised hand pulled him up short. "Don't even answer that, it was rhetorical and I'm sure it barely makes sense anyway." Pete huffed since it made perfect sense... probably. They reached the car with a fair amount of time before the rendezvous. Now all that was left was to wait.

  
It had only been ten minutes since they'd reach the car and Patrick had absolutely no idea how they'd managed to land in the current conversation. A fairly normal turn of events with Pete, but this was even more ridiculous than usual.

"But 'Trick, you have to see how ingenious this is!" Pete was sitting on the hood of the car, right over the blinding white emblem and leaning back to stare at the bits of night sky through the trees. "We're practically super heroes as it is, what with saving people from vampires and all, so it's not that much of a stretch. And, well, I'm only going with the Runaways because they don't wear spandex and they do sort of dress the way we do. That makes it even less of a stretch, right?"

"Of course it does," Patrick replies with a sarcastic roll of his eyes, "because not only were all of our parents evil and bent on world domination then destruction, but we all have super powers." Really, he had no idea how they'd arrived at the subject of matching the people they knew with various superheroes.

It had started with Pete proclaiming that he was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Batman. He then asked the rather curious question of Patrick's opinion on leather masks and swore it had nothing to do with what he thought it was. Patrick, however, hadn't assumed anything until Pete looked off into the distance with a tiny wistful smile on his face. Patrick didn't asked, but said he didn't have any particular feelings either way. It must not have been the right answer.

He then dismissed the idea of DC heroes entirely and latched to Marvel instead, immediately staking a claim in Tony Stark and declaring Patrick his Pepper Potts. Patrick snorted at the idea, adamantly denying that there was or ever would be any unresolved sexual tension between them. Pete's face fell just a little for a moment, just long enough for him to regret his callousness, but the vampire was nothing if not capable of bouncing back. They moved on to X-Men (Gambit and Rogue), the Avengers (Scarlet Witch and the Vision), the Young Avengers (Billy and Teddy), and now the Runaways.

"Pete, what's this all about anyway?" Patrick looked at him sidelong from where he leaned next to him, one eyebrow raised in confusion. Pete sent him a sheepish smile that made him pause. Pete Wentz did all sorts of smiles, but sheepish was a rare one. An exceedingly rare one. In fact, he hadn't seen it more than a handful of times. "Pete...?"

"Don't worry about it, okay?" At that very moment, Joe and Andy broke through the brush surrounding the car.

"We've got some news on the Dandies!" Joe proclaimed with a smile, short fangs glistening in the filtered moonlight. "But I'll tell you guys back at home, it's getting late."

"And by you'll tell them," Andy said with a roll of his eyes, "you mean I'll tell them while you satisfy whatever craving's bound to hit the second we walk through the door." Pete smirked and hopped off the hood while Patrick stood and stretched before sliding into the backseat. They took up their usual spots: Joe driving, Pete riding shotgun, Patrick behind Joe, and Andy next to him. Pete looked back at Andy and asked, perhaps a bit more gravely than the situation called for, if he'd rather ride shotgun. Andy merely shrugged and the two switched, Pete snuggling close to Patrick with a private smile gracing his face. Patrick just sighed and brushed Pete's fringe from his eyes.

Okay, so maybe he wouldn't mind being the Pepper to his Tony. Or maybe they could just be Patrick and Pete, whatever the hell that was. They were Hunters after all, not larger-than-life superheroes saving the universe, and Patrick liked it better that way. Patrick and Pete... Yeah, it had a nice ring to it.

**Author's Note:**

> E.n.s.c.t.h.e.w. stands for electrified net shooting contraption that hardly ever works. Pete was right and it actually did make perfect sense.


End file.
